The Beholder (11 page)

She meant to draw her hands down to her side, but her fingers paused over the swollen wounds. It was a shame, but now his chest would be as scarred as his back. Seeing such perfect male beauty damaged in such a way saddened her, and she wondered again who had put the wounds on his back.

He was shivering now, uncontrollably, his teeth chattering. It brought Nina back to her senses and she scolded herself for enjoying the wicked little pleasure of exploring his body. She went in search of blankets and found them in the bedroom cedar chest, along with a down comforter—a nice surprise.

On her way into the living room, she paused before the dresser. She held the candle close to three pictures sitting there. One was of a beautiful woman, standing outside. She had bright blond hair, laughing, upturned, catlike brown eyes and full, smiling lips. Her face exuded confidence, and Nina was willing to bet she was an alpha female seniph. She was stunningly gorgeous. No doubt one of Van Cleave’s conquests. An unwelcome
pang of jealousy nagged at her. Silly, she chided herself, but it wouldn’t go away.

The other picture was of a couple. Gray streaked the man’s golden hair. He wore the stern, harsh expression of an unforgiving taskmaster. The woman was smaller, auburn-haired, and her face held a frail smile. Her eyes looked trapped and needy and full of sadness. If the picture was any evidence, they weren’t a happy couple. Were these Kane’s parents? The man’s handsome features resembled Kane’s in many respects.

The last photo was of Kane, his arm around a younger man. They each held up two huge bass they had caught, grinning like proud fishermen. The younger man was almost as tall as Kane, but smaller in stature. He had the same deep green eyes, but there was something unsure and unknown behind them, and his smile was there for the camera. His tawny golden hair was cut short. He was definitely one of Kane’s family members. The resemblance to Kane and the older man in the photo was unmistakable.

Her gaze strayed back to the pretty woman, and she frowned as she left the room. She spread the blankets over him and waited. He stopped shivering and looked peaceful and quiet.

Suddenly she felt very alone and weary, events of the past day and a half and all the stress that had accompanied them folding in on her like a landslide. She craved her quiet place, but knew that if she summoned Koda, he wouldn’t take her there. He’d already made that plain. Abruptly she felt depressed and exhausted and trapped with a man who saw her only as a hostage.

She forced back her present depressing situation and felt hunger gnawing at her gut. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember and dragged herself to the kitchen. After rummaging through the cabinets, she found a bag of pretzels and a stash of sodas. Then she strode to the living room. She sat on the floor and leaned against the sofa next to Kane. Not a very substantial meal, but the pretzels filled her empty belly and the sugar in the soda tasted like manna from heaven.

When she was full, she blew out the candles and pulled some of the down comforter over her. It took only a few moments of listening to the fire popping and Kane’s deep, even breathing before her eyes grew heavy and closed.

She missed the face that peered in through the window and the two flaming eyes that stared at her.

K
ane woke, aware of the agonizing burning below his skin. Then he remembered driving here, but not much else. Had Nina Rainwater escaped? He thrust open his eyes, only to find her asleep on the floor near him, curled up at the base of the sofa, cocooned in a comforter. The pulse beating in her throat was the only sign that she was alive. A half-eaten bag of pretzels and an empty soda can turned over on its side lay beside her.

He peeled back the comforter and let his gaze roam over her. She was lying on her side in a fetal position. Her mouth was slightly open. He traced the line of her sultry and pouty lips, perfectly sculpted, her deep, even breaths gliding through them. Long, sooty lashes formed dark half moons on her cheeks. Her thick hair was voluptuously mussed around her face and shoulders. She looked small and childlike, but womanly and desirable,
too. Something about her made him want to stare at her like this forever.

But he forced his gaze back to his own body. He remembered blood, lots of it. He lifted the ton of blankets on him and peered at the wounds. She’d changed his bandages and managed to stop the bleeding. She must have helped him walk inside, too. Most captives would have left him to die or gotten their revenge. Nina Rainwater had a kind heart. The notion disturbed him, made him feel beholden to her and responsible for her. He found himself reaching down to rub a strand of her hair between his fingers. It felt like tantalizing silk caught in his fingertips. Everything about her felt surreal, enchanted, bewitching.

He stared at her luscious full lips. Vaguely he recalled trying to kiss her and the way she had pulled back from him. Always keeping her distance. He had a fuzzy impression of the term “witch” coming up several times. He remembered being angry that he couldn’t control his shifting and wanting to dominate her and feel her not pull away. That he remembered very clearly.

He tamped down the notion. He had to keep his distance. She was like this insatiable thing eating away at him, chipping away at his resolve.

Her eyes fluttered open, the blue in them reaching down deep inside him. She smiled, and two deep dimples formed in her cheeks. He’d never seen a more stunning face in his life. It almost hurt to look into those eyes, and he found himself staring at her lips. They were red and plump and glistening.

She must have felt the awkward moment between
them, too, because she sat up and said, “How are you?” She yawned and stretched, and he saw that she had small but nicely formed breasts under that bulky sweater and endless pairs of underwear.

“Better,” he said. “Why did you do it?”

“I was hungry.” She looked over at the pretzels.

“Not that. Why did you stay with me?”

“Because I couldn’t leave you.” She sounded matter-of-fact as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to do. She began finger-combing her long hair.

“You should have,” he said, intently watching her fingers sliding through the glossy mane. He wished it were his hand.

“Do you realize what you’re saying? You could have bled to death.”

“If our situations were reversed, I would have left you and escaped.” He knew he sounded harsh and callous, more to convince himself that he didn’t feel anything for her.

“Well, you’re lucky then that I’m not you.” She threw her hair over her shoulder, and it hit her back with a plop.

“Can’t argue that point.”

“Have we found some common ground?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

She seemed to peer straight into his innermost self, the dark place that had destroyed all he cared about. Someday he knew it would destroy him, too. “Doubt it,” he said flatly.

She arched a brow. “I don’t know. You might have been heartless yesterday, but today, after you’ve felt a
random act of kindness from someone—” she pointed to her own chest, and he got another eyeful of her breasts “—could you honestly say you wouldn’t have helped me?”

“I’m not letting you go, if that’s what you’re fishing for.” He shot her his most dangerous look, the expression that warned others to be on guard.

“I’m being serious here. I’m not trying to manipulate you. Would you have helped me?”

He looked into her searching blue eyes and told her what she wanted to hear. “Maybe, if I could have gotten away.”

“I’m glad you’re not a total lost cause.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. The world is full of darkness, and you can’t change that.”

She met his eyes squarely, unblinking. “Only if you seek it out.”

“No need to go looking. It finds you.”

“If you invite it in. You see, I have this theory.” She raised her brows and had that forthright untainted expression that he was beginning to recognize and appreciate. “That if you do one good deed, then you receive that measure of kindness back tenfold. And it registers in our consciousness and changes us and allows more goodness to enter our lives. Same thing with evil. It comes in if we allow it.”

It physically hurt to not reach down and grab her and show her his own form of happiness. It took all of his concentration as he said, “Then you don’t believe in absolute evil.”

“Of course I do.” She cut her eyes at him. “Demons
are evil and unredeemable, but creatures such as yourself, who have two skins, and those like me—” she motioned to herself “—who are all human, we have a conscience and therefore free will and the capacity and receptiveness required for goodness to drop seeds. And we can control our destiny and not let negative energy in our lives.”

Kane studied her a moment. She seemed so trusting and naïve and genuinely serious. He didn’t think this was a Little Miss Sunshine act. He was seeing the real Nina Rainwater. He wished he wasn’t so jaded by life and said, “You’re young and easily taken in. What until you’ve lived awhile.”

“You speak like you’re ancient. You couldn’t be that much older than me.” She cocked her head to the side, and her hair fell over her shoulder. It was a flirtatious gesture, used by females over the ages, but he was certain she had no idea that she was doing it as she asked, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. Old enough to know that if you believe what you just said, you’re the most gullible human I’ve ever met.”

“Or the most evolved.” After a hard look, she grew quiet and looked offended. Her cheeks reddened from shyness or anger, he couldn’t tell which.

Kane immediately regretted his words and said, “It’s got to be frustrating keeping such a positive outlook.”

“Really, it’s not. But I guess for someone like you, who carries around so much gloom and doom, it might be.”

“I don’t look at the world with blinders on.”

“I don’t, either.”

“I bet you’ve never experienced real emotional pain.” He couldn’t draw his gaze from the pout of her lips and those fathomless blue eyes crowned by the heavy black lashes that tied him up in knots. He hadn’t felt like this since he was fifteen and had lost his virginity.

“Oh, my gosh! I’m a receiving tower for emotions.” She threw her hands up in dismay. “Really?”

“I communicate with all creatures, alive or—” She caught herself and looked suddenly annoyed at what she had just revealed.

“Dead?” he finished for her. She was a magnetic telepath, an ethereal diviner. So that’s why he’d felt so compelled to be near her. He’d never met anyone like her. To keep her talking about herself, he asked, “How do you deal with it?”

“I’ve learned how to cope by finding the bright side. And don’t think I haven’t had disappointments in my life.”

“Name one.”

“I’ve never met my mother. There. How’s that for disappointment?”

“You’re not vested in the relationship, so you’re really not feeling loss there.”

“Okay,
quid pro quo,
” she said, her blue eyes flashing.

“Who do you care about?”

“My brother. Back at you. How do you feel when you have to watch those creatures you try to help die?”

“I don’t like it, and I question why I’ve been given
my powers, like I’m being tested or failing miserably.” She seemed to come to a realization, and bottomless sorrow marred her face. “Honestly, I hate it sometimes.” Emotion stirred the blue glass in her eyes.

So Little Miss Sunshine wasn’t all sunshine. Having helped her realize that made him feel like a heel at the moment. He wanted to give her back her little bubble of optimism, no matter how fabricated it was, and take away the sadness he’d caused. But there was nothing wrong with her facing reality and learning that it bit you on the ass every time you dropped your guard. He didn’t know how to console her, so he said nothing.

She cleared her throat, blinked back the tears and said, “I’ve never admitted that to anyone. Not even my sisters. Maybe not even to myself.”

“I’m glad you told me. I thought anyone so optimistic about life couldn’t have lived it, but I was wrong.” It took a lot for him to admit that, but he felt she needed to hear it and he needed to say it.

“It’s okay.” She smiled, but only a little. “I thought the same about you.” She pointed to him. “Anyone as rich as you couldn’t have any reason to be cynical or gloomy or lonely, but I’ve felt it in you. So deep it hurts me. So I guess we were both wrong about each other. Because until you walk in someone else’s shoes, you really don’t know what they’ve gone through.”

So that’s why she shied away from him; she channeled his beastly emotions. He’d never felt so exposed. She was able to look into the darkest corners of his soul. Was he really so bitter about life or so miserable? It had been such a gradual progression and acceptance that he’d
never really taken stock of his existence. And he didn’t like her doing it for him, so he changed the subject. “It must be a burden, your power.”

“You have no idea, but I have a place I can go—” She paused, seeming to grow uncomfortable at what she was about to say. She pointed to him. “Enough about me. Tell me about your pride. I never knew a group of seniphs lived here.”

“We took great care that no one knew. We’re a close-knit group and keep to ourselves. We had to be, living near humans.”

“So you’ve been settled here a long time?”

“Hundreds of years.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“Not much to tell. My parents owned the winery. They’re dead now.”

“You mentioned a brother.”

The conversation was shifting in the wrong direction, so he said, “We’re done with Twenty Questions.”

“Why?” She tilted her head and looked over at him in that sexy but innocent way of hers.

“It’s better we don’t know so much about each other.” He refused to look into her eyes, and his gaze landed on the beating pulse at the base of her neck. He groaned inwardly.

“If that’s the way you want it.” Her back went broomstick straight. Her guard went up, and the warm, fascinating light died in her eyes. “I’d almost forgotten you’d tied me up and made me come here.” She shot him an accusatory glance.